


electrification

by doctorkaitlyn



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Awkward Sexual Situations, Blood Drinking, Bottom Shane Madej, Community: bfukinkmeme, Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Vampire Shane Madej
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 13:22:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14309565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctorkaitlyn/pseuds/doctorkaitlyn
Summary: The thing is, Ryan really meant to have this discussionbeforehe ended up in bed with Shane riding him.





	electrification

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for the following prompt from the [BFU Kinkmeme](https://bfukinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/972.html) over on Dreamwidth: _Prompt: Shane/Ryan, vampire shane. Vampire Shane drinks from Ryan while they fuck._
> 
> this is vaguely domestic, but mainly, it's exactly what it says in the tags. oops.

The thing is, Ryan really meant to have this discussion _before_ he ended up in bed with Shane riding him.

He’d planned on sending a text right after he got off the phone with his mom, just to give Shane a heads-up, but then Zack had sent him an email with a list of possible ideas for the next season of Sports Conspiracies and he’d spent the following hours on a spiral of research. By the time he remembered again, he was in the midst of cutting up vegetables for dinner, and Shane was supposed to be back from his late-running meeting at any moment, so there was no point in him taking a break just to wash his hands and find his phone. When he heard Shane’s keys in the lock, he’d set the knife down on the counter and washed his hands in the sink, intent on telling Shane once he came in and settled down a bit.

Except before he could do so much as call out _hey_ and turn his head, Shane breezed into the room, towering form blurry at the edges, pressed himself against Ryan’s back, curved his big hands around Ryan’s waist and started smearing hard kisses down Ryan’s throat, fangs occasionally coming out to gently scrape twin trails against Ryan’s skin.

And really, Ryan doesn’t think he can be blamed for the fact that he decided to turn off the stove and spin around to kiss Shane until he couldn’t breathe rather than pausing things. He’s pretty sure that half of the people at the office, if presented with the same situation, would have done the exact same thing.

But that being said, even though it’s almost certainly going to be a buzzkill, will probably make Shane pause for a few moments (which is truly unfortunate, because Shane looks incredible bearing down on Ryan’s cock with his hair falling into his face and his fangs pressing into his own bottom lip), he _really_ needs to bring it up now, because Shane is getting close. His groans are getting deeper, and one of his hands is pressed against the side of Ryan’s neck, right over his throbbing pulse. It’s only a matter of time before he asks Ryan to sit up a little so that he can lean over and sink his fangs into Ryan’s throat.

If it were any other day, Ryan would be eagerly waiting for that to happen, would be tilting his head back and putting his throat on display just to see how long Shane could hold off on biting him.

(Which is probably the most dangerous game he’s ever played, from a purely objective perspective, but he trusts Shane’s self-control a hell of a lot more than he trusts some of the resident specters and demons that inhabit the places they visit for Unsolved.)

But tonight, as much as it pains him to speak up, he can’t let that happen.

“You can’t bite my neck tonight,” he finally manages to moan, just as Shane presses his hand a little harder against the side of his neck.

Shane’s fangs retract into his gums as he stops moving, and even though Ryan knew this was going to happen, he can’t help but groan with frustration. Shane’s dark eyes flick open, pupils wide and blown, and a frown creases his mouth.

“Did I take too much last time?” he asks, pulling his hand away from Ryan’s neck to rest on his chest instead, over his heart. 

“What? No, fuck, last time was _incredible_.” He already misses the pressure of Shane’s palm against the side of his throat, but he doesn’t want to fuck this up any further, so he settles for reaching down and tangling their fingers together. “No, it’s not that.” Now that he’s finally spurred himself into action, it occurs to him that the whole situation is a little ridiculous, maybe even absurd, and he laughs, unable to believe that this is somehow his life now, like a bad subplot from an old soap opera.

Unfortunately, the laugh only makes Shane’s frown grow deeper, and Ryan scrambles to just explain the fucking situation before the moment is totally and utterly ruined (if they haven't already reached that point).

“My mom is coming over tomorrow for breakfast,” he says, absently rubbing his thumb against Shane’s knuckles, “and we’re out of concealer, and I don’t think she bought the last excuse I gave her.” After a moment, Shane’s eyes spark with understanding, and his mouth quirks back up into a smile.

“Was that when she surprised you at work?” Ryan nods. He’d been in too much of a rush that particular morning to think about covering up the puncture marks and surrounding bruises on his neck, and by the time he remembered, he was already at the office. He’d gotten a few stares and idle comments, but everyone had either believed him when he said it was for an upcoming video or just winked and moved on.

Except for his mom, who’d dropped by for lunch and stared at his neck for almost the entirety of their meal, no matter how he elaborated on and reiterated his lie.

“You’ve really got to work on your excuses,” Shane says, shaking his head and sighing dramatically. “I thought that you would have picked up some of my skills by now.”

“Not all of us have had centuries of practice,” Ryan retorts, pinching Shane's thigh. “I meant to ask you to pick up more concealer, but then work stuff happened.”

“Work stuff always happens with you.” Shane says it fondly, squeezes Ryan’s hand slightly as he rocks his hips back a little. “I don’t have to bite you at all, if you don’t want. I’m fine.”

Technically, Ryan knows that it’s true, knows that there’s no real urgency. He’s seen Shane go two weeks without feeding before, and it had only a minimal impact on his functioning. There’s also a stash of chicken blood frozen in the back of their refrigerator for emergencies, for times where Ryan is out of town or too sick for Shane to bite.

But while the chicken blood _will_ sustain Shane, it’s only in the most basic sense of the term. It won’t do anything to change the pallor of his skin or the glassiness of his eyes. It will just keep him alive, or as close to alive as he can possibly be, given the whole lack of a beating heart and technically being undead thing.

He could offer up his femoral, but that would mean that Shane would have to stop riding him, and Ryan (understandably, he thinks) is reluctant to go down that path. Besides, the bruising that usually comes hand in hand with being bitten there always makes it a little difficult to wear jeans for a few days, and he can’t very well have breakfast with his mom or go to work in sweatpants (BuzzFeed isn’t _quite_ that permissive).

Thankfully, those aren’t the only two major arteries he has.

“C’mere,” he says, using their intertwined fingers to pull Shane closer, leaning up so they can meet in the middle. “Got an idea. But I wanna kiss you more first.”

“You sure that’s the only thing you want to do?” Shane asks, huffing a laugh against Ryan’s cheek as he rolls his hips down again.

Just like that, Ryan’s back to being fully hard.

He doesn’t bother to grace Shane with an answer to that question. Instead, he captures Shane’s mouth with his own and threads his fingers into Shane’s short hair, keeping him close by. It makes it difficult for Shane to really ride him with abandon, and he more ends up grinding down on Ryan’s cock in languid, deep movements.

Not that Ryan’s complaining about the change of pace, and based on the aborted gasps and curses Shane keeps pressing against his mouth in between kisses, Shane doesn’t mind either.

It takes a few minutes for them to catch back up to where they were before Ryan opened his mouth, but eventually, Shane’s fangs drop again, catch on the swell of Ryan’s bottom lip and draw a few beads of blood that Shane immediately licks up with a deep, almost _desperate_ groan. When Ryan’s hand brushes against his dick, Shane squeezes his eyes shut.

That’s when Ryan slides his other hand free of Shane’s hair and cranes back a few inches so that he can hold his wrist, blue and purple veins visible under his skin, in front of Shane’s mouth.

“Here,” he pants. His back is starting to get sore from such an awkward position, so he lets go of Shane’s dick just long enough to reach backwards and shove some pillows behind his spine. “C’mon.”

When Shane’s eyes flick open, there’s hardly any iris left, just pupil as dark as the night sky stretching over the desert. 

“You’re sure?” he asks, voice rough. Ryan nods. 

“Yeah. I’m sure.” It’s not a favorite of theirs, but they’ve done it a few times before, never with any unfortunate consequences. Besides, he’s close, can feel it building in the pit of his stomach and the muscles of his thighs, and he’s pretty sure that they have a good chance of timing it so that they both come at the same time. He tightens his hand around Shane’s dick and strokes a little faster, which wrenches another moan from Shane’s throat. “Hurry up. My arm’s gonna-”

 _Fall asleep_ remains unspoken, because Shane sinks his fangs into Ryan’s wrist, one hand wrapped around his forearm for stability, and Ryan’s ability to think, let alone say actual words, is momentarily obliterated. 

Once, when he was younger, he’d visited a friend’s house that was undergoing some renovations. The downstairs bathroom didn’t have a cover around the light switch, and when his damp fingers accidentally went into the opening around the switch and brushed against a wire, a shock had shot through his hand and numbed his entire arm for hours.

Being bitten by Shane feels like that, only a thousand times more pleasurable and entirely all-encompassing.

When he comes to, blinks away the white clouding his vision, there’s come drying on his hand and stomach, and he’s slipped out of Shane. Shane’s fangs have retracted, and he’s carefully licking up the last remnants of blood from Ryan’s wrist, mouth and teeth tinted faintly red. There’s a smear of blood on his cheek, and after wiping his hand off on the sheets, Ryan drags his thumb across it and slips it into Shane’s mouth.

The groan he makes as he hollows his cheeks out and sucks every last bit off is enough to make Ryan’s dick twitch again.

“How are you feeling?” Shane asks hoarsely once he’s cleaned off Ryan’s thumb. He already looks healthier; the dark stubble on his jaw and cheeks doesn’t look as stark against his skin, and his eyes are brighter.

"Great,” Ryan answers honestly, sinking back against the pillows. He’s a little woozy, but it’s nothing out of the ordinary, nothing that some orange juice and rest won’t be able to fix. “Kinda wish I’d finished cooking though. I’m fucking starving.”

“Sorry,” Shane laughs, pressing a hard kiss against Ryan’s wrist before he slides off and stretches out beside him. The bleeding has almost trickled to a stop, but Shane still wraps his long fingers around the wounds and applies pressure to speed up the process. “I can finish up, if you want.”

“In a minute.” Ryan shuffles closer and drops his head against Shane’s chest, which is pleasantly cool to the touch against his sweat-slicked face. “That took a lot out of me.”

“I noticed.” Ryan hears rather than sees Shane wiggle his eyebrows as one of his long fingers drags through the mess on Ryan’s stomach, and even though part of Ryan finds it utterly gross, the other part can’t look away from the sight.

“Just for that, I want dinner delivered to me on the couch.” 

“Would you like some champagne too? Maybe even some caviar.”

“Fuck you,” Ryan wheezes, jabbing his finger into Shane’s side.

“Again? I mean, if you insist.” 

Ryan rolls his eyes and drapes one arm over Shane’s waist.

“Maybe in a bit. After I’ve eaten.”

He’s only half-serious, and by the time he finishes showering and eating, he’s too tired to do much of anything beyond stare at the television, lean against Shane’s side and absently trace his finger around the bandage wrapped around his wrist.

He’s already picked out his clothes for tomorrow so that he doesn’t forget to wear long sleeves and end up facing yet another awkward situation with his mom, but just in case something happens, he decides to start thinking of potential excuses that will be more believable than last time.

He falls asleep before he comes up with a single one. 

(Thankfully, by the time he wakes up, Shane has compiled a list of ten possibilities and sent them to him through text.

Even though half of them are utterly ridiculous and two are wildly inappropriate, Ryan is still weirdly grateful for the gesture.)

**Author's Note:**

> as always, I can be found on [tumblr.](http://banshee-cheekbones.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
